7:15 p.m. - 07/17/02
i'm her little goat.
I'm thinking that sitting- nearly asleep- at a computer, listening to Merman for the second (and probably not last) consecutive time, is probably not a good sign. Ever. But I feel good, despite being terribly, terribly exhausted... after all, what do I want except to curl up and have someone take care of me, and hearing Tori-Amos-lullabies is basically the closest thing I'm going to get right now. I've turned my attitude around the past few days, by paying constant attention to how I feel, honoring it, and trying to find a way to shift my energy. For instance, when my modem's complete lack of consideration for my routine, my time-constraints, and my general well-being is making me furious, I turn up the stereo and focus on singing. And then I don't care that I have to wait. I'm not pasting a smile on my face by any means, but I'm trying *not* to do things that annoy me, or at least to do them in a way that doesn't annoy me as much. How terribly innovative. I mean, obvious. Yes.
And I've finally developed the "routine" that every adult in my life seemed so certain I needed, and I'll admit I'm enjoying it. I've always been the girl who liked structure so long as she was in charge of it. I like having a plan I am free to throw out the window. I do worry too much that my routine will become rigid, since that's my past pattern, but I suppose two weeks of following Sarah's routine around will cure me of any lingering need to stick to mine. I leave Saturday for *fourteen friggin* days, which basically feels like forever. I'm glad my parents are coming up Thursday through Saturday; it helps me break it up into two little sections, which is a task-attacking trick that always helps me. if, on Saturday, I only have to survive away from my parents until Thursday, and on the next Saturday, I only have to survive until Friday, it's two separate weeks instead of two full weeks. and Sarah and I are flying home together (surprise! happy birthday, daddy!) so that'll take some of the trip pressure off and still give me the ever-so-exciting (now that I've done it once) thrill of doing something so bizarrely independent as flying, on an airplane, across whole states.
I'm sure I'll need to thoroughly study people in line before leaving to convince myself that God-or-whoever would surely not send our plane crashing down into the earth with such good people on board. I mean, he won't kill me that way when all these other people would suffer as well. The scary thing is, my random phobia has now become a national phenomena. I'm realizing for the first time that on September Eleventh, two planes were hijacked and thrown into a building, killing *many many* people. When it happened, I was in the world's safest place, working too hard on my own stuff to be affected, really, and the last time I went to NY, I was still so out of it from leaving Rogers that I didn't really think of what had happened. I really feel now like something will be wrong circling above the skyline, and like it's definitely possible the plane will explode into a million pieces...but...erm...this probably isn't a productive fantasy. I will bring a book, I will read the book, I will arrive safely on the east coast.
speaking of mortal threats, I saw the superdoc today for the last time for seventeen (?) days. for quite a few anyway. it might be longer; I don't think it's productive to count. anyway, it's a while, and I'm scared, even though I managed a two week trip away from therapy mere weeks after being discharged from 24/7 care. I know I can do this; I'm not scared about that. I'm just scared about how painful it might be. it's like being afraid of dying versus being afraid of death. I know I will make it through to the other side, but this is just *so hard* in ways I never believed it would be. I don't think I was naive, but I just never imagined how much effor this would take. What's that Lifehouse line? "I guess I kinda thought that it would be easier than this/ I guess I was wrong..." Actually, a lot of boy-music has been my soundtrack lately (though right now the Tori mp3s are perfect). I've even been drawn to (God help me) the new Creed single just because I misheard the one line as, "hold me now/ I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking/ maybe six feet is so far down..." The first time I heard that, it was really healing; I was caught up in all the shit that Silje and Sara and Dixie and whoever else are going through, and that line just said to me, Maybe it hurts as much to be at this (supposedly further along) point like you are as it does to be 'struggling' *their* way. I've finally realized that I am struggling. I'm struggling terribly. Dr. R even said it might be worse than what my friends are experiencing, which is a weird possibility I don't like typing. It messes with my head to think that at the same time I'm feeling guilty for doing well when everyone else is struggling, for "having it easy" when they're having such hard times, I'm feeling neglected, alone in my "invisible pain," pouting because I want someone to take care of me the way I have it in my head they're being taken care of. Even though, they both have a pretty similar lack of support to what I have: Sara's therapist went out of town for two weeks and Silje spent her first months at home with no treatment team (how she survived that is still beyond my comprehension.) I don't know. I think the doc was trying to help me understand that my feelings were ambiguous (again) and I was feeling guilty (again) which was keeping me from just letting myself admit that I was having a hard time, too. Which I did finally admit. I'm having a really hard time, and the problem is, it's a hard time I'm used to, it's a hard time I know the way out of, *but* it's not something that can be solved here. The only solution, in all reality, is to wait for a miracle, or move. And since I can't move (as much as I know I can't live with my parents, I can, at this point, barely survive a week away from home *with my sister*) I just have to wait and work on finding the courage to believe in something better to an extent that I'll go looking for it.
I tried to explain to him, and I think he understood: in my life, I've had two experiences. In one, no one and nothing other than the Main Crisis was given attention. the worst case scenario was the one into which everyone's energy fueled, and the minimal positive attention thrown out was conditional and achievement-based. (his translation: "you either have to be perfect or sick." exactly.) scenario two (rogers) was basically the polar opposite. even when I was doing really well, I was given attention based on who I was, which contributed to my developing a sense of entitlement (I deserve love and I am allowed to need) that left me more peaceful than I had ever been. unfortunately, the scale, except for the fact that scenario number one went on for 16 yrs and scenario two went on for less than 3 months, is completely balanced. I have no way to know which is the exception and which is the reality. I told him, "it'd be hard enough to survive this situation for another year, without wondering if the rest of my life is going to be this way. how do I know? do real people actually treat you well, or are they crisis-oriented? are there people like those at Rogers, or am I going to spend the rest of my life in a situation that mirrors home?"
he said the most brilliant thing. (hey, at least I'm gushing *less* this week.) he said that he really wished he had a way to convince me that I could have support like I had at Rogers in the real world, to instill that kind of hope, but if he couldn't do that, he would aim for working with me to find a "healthy doubt" about what went on at home. he said that what made my home life so difficult to work with from his therapist perspective (and he even said something about how it *was* difficult, about how, like me, he did wish he could make it different, sort of- or at least, I think he did) - what makes it hard is that it's not the type of situation he can help me learn to handle, because it's not something I should learn to tolerate. that would completely counter what I need to live a healthy, happy life because it would teach me to accept the unacceptable. at the same time, if I can't believe that the outside world is not like home (and why should I, when my experience says, "this is the world, and it sucks for you") or even doubt that it has to be that way, then I *will* end up drawing people to me who are crisis-oriented. because obviously they exist. people who will ignore, neglect, beat me down, and put their pain onto my plate are ready, willing, and able to walk into my life, and it's up to me to find enough hope to keep them away. isn't that beautiful? *hope* is my armor.
just in the past couple weeks with him, I'm really starting to understand the power of the littlest thought. I feel incredible guilt and he tells me to just *consider the possibility* that I'm feeling this guilt to protect myself from anger that I'm not ready or safe to feel. the guilt is in a new light, and I'm not as susceptible to walking off the roof because it tells me to. he says, consider the possibility that life *does not have* to be like it is at your home. and I no longer feel like playing in traffic because if there's one person out there who would treat me like I am consistently good, like they did at RED, then, as I said to Sara, "of course I want to go to college! of course I want to keep fighting! in fact, excuse me while I go pack because I want to leave *now*..." it's like the flip side of the faith is the doubt, and if I can just *doubt* that the bad thing is the constant one than maybe some day I'll find reason to hope that the good one is constant, truly.
he made so much sense that I resisted the urge to knock him over the head with a vase and put him in my suitcase. I told Mom that was my plan if he refused to take the vacation of his own will. (I had to tell her, as I don't have a big enough suitcase.) he made sure (I mean really *sure*) that I knew I could call him, that if I needed him at all he was there, but that, if by some magic NYC proved to be a true reprieve from life here, I should by no means feel required to check in with him. which is basically perfect.
I was kind of upset (ok, really upset) driving home because there's so much to deal with right now, and I don't like the idea of taking a break from the work. Plus, I'm not sure it's possible to take a break, and if that's true I don't want to be "alone" (because I consider being in a crazy-populated city without my therapist alone) in that. It did finally occur to me that the fact that what I want more than anything in the world is (not a dragon) - to be taking care of and I'm going to visit the girl who does nothing better than compulsively take care of me is probably not an accident, and it's the perfect opportunity to *continue* working. Of course, I don't want to work on *that.* I want to work on the grief over (you know, and also) the fact that my homelife is shit and what's going on with my friends. I don't want to be put in a situation where I can either succumb and let my neediness feed my sister's caretaking or utilize the trip to work on getting my needs met in the relationship in a way that makes me feel better instead of worse.
Or I could just curl up on the couch and let her feed me soup. That sounds good.
You know what's really pathetic? I was imagining what vacation I would actually *like* to go on right now, and I was thinking, you know, if I could just be at Rogers for a week, or for this thirteen days or whatever, and not be in the groups and not really interact with everyone, just have my own little room in this place that's really safe for me, and visit a little with Brea and Stacy and all of my people- you know, sit with them in the office and have them with with me in my room- I would really like that. Just a little while to cry all day if I want to and throw pillows across the room, to have people to support me that I didn't have to negotiate my feelings around. It would just be so nice. They should allow little stays like that. And it shouldn't cost a life savings to do it.
I honestly believe I'm where I need to be at all times, but it would just be...nice...to be where I wanted, occasionally. I have so much cleaning and packing and letter-writing to do. I'm one of those people who always comes home from a vacation needing another one. The good news is, once my dad's birthday festivities are over, (he turns 50 and there will be at least 10 of us here) I can crash.
I honestly believe I'll enjoy myself. I just honestly wish I wasn't going.
chord
�
�
